


Shattered Sheaths

by ShadedCat



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types, Fate/stay night: Unlimited Blade Works (Anime 2014)
Genre: Abuse, Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Anti-Hero, Apathy, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Broken Characters, Broken Promises, Casual Sex, Character Death, Child Death, Chronic Pain, Corruption, Crimes & Criminals, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Fights, Gang Violence, Gangsters, Gen, Gun Violence, Hatred, High School, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death, Multi, Organized Crime, Pain, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-High School, Psychological Torture, Self-Hatred, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Snuff, Strong Female Characters, Torture, Tragedy, Utalitarianism, Utilitarianism, Violence, hyperrealism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 17:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadedCat/pseuds/ShadedCat
Summary: al·terˈôltərchange or cause to change in character or composition, typically in a comparatively small but significant way.When the intended ideals of one becomes warped and twisted beyond recognition, all that's left for them to do is pick up the pieces and continue on from where they left off





	Shattered Sheaths

A job is a job is a job is a job is task given to him to complete no matter what. Loading the shell into the compacted hand cannon that would blow out the elbows and shoulders of most people, he held it at the back of the sniveling man’s head before squeezing the trigger without a second thought. Bones and brain matter splashed against the brick and mortal in front of him. The deafening blast of the shot didn’t even ring in his ears as he snapped the chamber and the spent shell of Kanshou popped out. The heat of the smoking paper and aluminum shell was collected by him before he holstered the massive hand cannon at his side.

He eyed the other corpses. Four others, including the man he had just killed. This was the man’s family. His wife, his two sons, and his youngest daughter. They needed to die. It was the job. The entire family ran a number of drug cartels, each one of them not safe from the task of leadership. The father may have been the leader, but the two sons were both captains within the cartel, the wife the one who ran the front in keeping their business seem legitimate. The girl, the highest paid prostitute in their sex trafficking ring.

He brought the cigarette up to his lips, taking a mouthful of cheap nicotine and tar that did nothing for him. He took a long drag as he continued to mechancially move about the room in preparation for the oportune time. His foot tipped over the can of gasoline that lay nearby, causing a leaking spill to begin to flow out of the can. Already he could hear the sound of people already moving to find out where the sound was. It was to be expected, he only used Kanshou on the head leader, wanting to send a direct message with the way he killed the man.

He kicked another gasoline can, and another, and another, until the entire floor was soaked and smelled of petrol. The door that he barricaded with the bed and a wardrobe began to budge outward, the sound of shouts and bellows in a foreign language that he had a passing understanding of.

_“Jefe, ¿Esta bien?"_

_“Jefe, ¡escuchamos un grito!”_

_“¡Jefe! ¡¡Jefe!! ¡¡¡Jefe!!!”_

He hardly paid any mind to the chatter behind him, and instead opened the window. A cold wind blew in, but he didn’t feel against his skin, and instead looked down. Below him was a steep drop into the sea. Rocky crags at the bottom, with a murky depth at how deep the water went, or how shallow it could be.

He sat on the window sill now, the cigarette held between his fingers as he stared dully at the rushing sea. His mind an incomprehensible mess of incomprehensible nothingness, if one where to peer into his mind, one would just find the visual equivalent to static. White noise personified. He brought the cigarette back up to his lips once more before taking drag of it, then remembered he needed proof.

His other hand reached into his pocket to fish out a small pda and opened the camera application. He stood up from the windowstill and went to the bodies. The door began to be hit by something hard, perhaps an axe as he made his way to each body.

First the husband and patriarch of the Cartell and the family, who’s head now looked like grounded meat with white chunks of skull still visible. An eye still remained attached to the nerves and what was left to the brain. The last to die, and ultimately the one whom was the easiest to take care of.

The wife's corpse was next, having killed her first amongst the family. She died by garrote wire, having gone into a bathroom after making a heartbreakingly tragic speech about the plight of families with no borders, just after she snorted a line of cocaine to help bring the tears to her eyes. When she went to the bathroom to do another, he was waiting there before she even got the packet out of her pocket. The white powder was a pain to clean up, with the blood mingling with the powder making it a sticky mess.

He made sure to grab the woman’s head just right, just to show the red line where the garrote bit into flesh, as well as the mangled appearance of her esophagus, the force of garrote having nearly crumpling the passageway in two.

The next he killed were the two sons, twins by birth but held different position in the cartel. One could be described as the main seller, the middleman between much of the high-profile negotiations of the cartel. Selling to other cartels, talking to government officials, meeting high profile client, watching and making sure there were no rats, maintain appearances alongside his mother. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head, while the whites of his eyes were no longer white but yellowed like aged flesh. Froth collected from his mouth as the bonds he put the oldest son in was desperately pulled against from the struggle of poinson that had gone through his system.

A picture of his lifeless eyes and a postmortem throat slit was saved. A large jagged hole was made in the door as the shouting increased upon seeing the body of their Boss slumped with his head like putty.

The second son was the ever-dutiful enforcer of the cartel. A man who had less than half the brains of his older brother, but perhaps three times the muscle and body size. A large imposing man that could capitulate even his father in feats of strength and brutality. Always walking through the cartel’s base town of operation with confidence that bled into arrogance.

He got him after the man had worked through several of his own sister’s whores, with the last being too high to even realize that incense holder had been replaced with a poisons mustard gas. The amount released wouldn’t kill the man, but after enough time it would make him weak enough for him to approach him without any resistance and stab his heart several times. Six times to be precise before shoving the blade through his temple for good measure. The blade was left in the hand of the whore and the body taken. He took a picture of the ashened face and stab wounds before going to the sister, the baby of the family barely eighteen years old, and the true bread winner of the family.

The hardest of the family to track down, as she was a whore much like the girls she trained and sent out. Always sharing a bed with another man, woman, or both. Always travelling, always moving. She did more than just manage the sex trafficking ring of the family, she was the sex trafficking ring and a part of it. She lived in it and reveled in it, and would hav easily become the next Cartell leade, truly a wonderful icon in woman's representation. Proud, tenacious, and free and wanting to love any and all... Provided they have enough money of course.

Which is why all he had to do was offer himself as a customer and be lead away in red satin rooms and an alluring body of a woman half his age. There she began to orchestrate her art with him, giving him pleasures he could not feel, to parts of his body that did not care for all. All it took was for one suggestion and one pill before he had his hands around her throat. Squeezing, and squeezing, and squeezing and shaking until long after her finger nails broke after scratching his arms in a vain attempt to push him off. Her heels hitting uselessly against his back as his fingers dug into her throat until he felt the feeling of her throat and vertebrae collapsing beneath his fingers while he was still buried within her.

 _“¡Oye! ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí? ¡Oye! O—“_ His arm rose up with Bakuya and fired a round. Rapid fire spewed forth from the muzzle as the cartel man who managed to squeeze his way in first was riddled with .45 caliber shot. The squeezing of the trigger did not stop as the gang member fell, and instead he focused on suppressing fire from the other cartel members who tried to follow through.

 _“¡Este es un mensaje de la Familia de Bocadora!”_ He roared out as his hand gripped the cigarette in his hand, a barely a stub now but the embers still were red and bright. He holstered his gun before stepping towards the windowsill. _“¡Nosotros han tomado las cabezas de sus Jefes! ¡Nosotros corremos el norte!”_ Then he flicked the cigarette bud just as the next few men walked in, and the gasoline on the ground erupted into hell fire as corpses and people alike were lit in a sudden blaze.

Screams were heard from the men caught immediately in the fire as he stepped on the windowsill. A bullet whizzed past him, another impacted the actual glass, causing it to shatter and the shards rained down on him. Some cut him, showing that he could bleed, and his blood was red.

He saw drop fall towards the deep chasm of the ocean below, and suddenly he found himself following it. His pda had received the message as he fell.

**[Mission Accomplished. Next mission pending.]**

_Splash!_

**-1-**

“In wake of the most recent attacks--.”

“Where does this leave--”

“The public must know--”

“We must know--”

“An interview is all we ask--”

“About the state of Camel—"

The incesant prattles of various news casting teams waiting all day for the young lady of the house to finish school and arrive home ceased after said girl kicked the door shut in their faces, causing one intruding newsman to fly back onto his rear in shock. Stomping feet and a standoffish presentation made the news teams outside cease their attempts for just a second, enough for the guards outside the manor’s house to escort them off the premise. That glare on her face grew even more upon her eyes seeing the person she wanted to see the least.

“What do you want Merlin?” Her hard glare did not match her pretty features, but instead accented to it despite the serene smile on the well dressed man lounging on a lazy-boy.

“A-a-a-a-a-a-ah A-a-a-a-Arthuria, I-I-I n-never knew you had this~” Merlin’s eyes were in euphoric bliss as the pistons in the chair got him in the right spots in his back. “J-J-Just right t-t-there~” The sensations ceased when Arthuria casually “stumbled” over the wire and unplugged it.

“Oops,” she shrugged with a smug smirk. Merlin lightly glared at her before he stood up and stretched out his back, letting out a moan when his spine popped in just the right way. His eyes snapped to the rustling as Arthuria began to shift through the McMonalds bag.

“Did you get me anything?” A single ketchup packet was thrown at his face before hitting the ground in a lump. Merlin’s eyes narrowed as he saw the young girl of sixteen hold the double 114 G burger in her hands. Then Arthuria promptly opened her mouth and ate half of the burger in one bite all while making eye contract with Merlin, who stared back only in exasperation.

“Whah dah yah want Marlan?” she asked between bites of her burger, finishing it, and grabbing another from a bag. She had six bags, each holding three burgers each, and an order of large fries, all for her.

“Please wipe your mouth, I didn’t raise you like that~” Merlin grasped his handkerchief and dabbed the girl’s mouth as she glared at him.

“You didn’t raise me,” she muttered as she swallowed.

“Nonsense~” Merlin smiled again before there was a knock on the window. Arthuria’s response was vastly different than what Merlin’s was. While Merlin easily bounced his way towards the window without a care in the world, Arthuria’s hand went to the inside pocket of her jacket, a hand grasping a handle stared with narrowed eyes. The hand holding the burger clenched down, squeezing grease onto the tabletop.

“Who is it~”

“It’s Agravain you insufferable wastrel of everything” Merlin only smiled widely as he unlatched the window and allowed the man in a silk black shirt, dark blue tie, and equally blue slacks slip in. His grey coat tucked over the handgun that he kept on hand before he stood before Arthuria, whom barely gave any indication of even noting his presence. “How was school ojou-sama?”

“Boring.”

“Understandable, it’s only by the state’s command do you have to go school.”

“Oh come on Agy, why don’t you state the real reason for why you’re here~” Merlin slung his arm around the stern and stoic man, whom glared vehemently and took a single step so as to have the arm fall.

“I don’t think it is necessary for ojou-sama to kno—”

“Do you presume to think for me now?” Agravain’s eyes snapped back up to the golden stare of the pale girl, having now finished all her burgers fries and milkshakes, rubbed her perpetually frowning mouth. “If you have something to say, speak.”

“I apologize Ojou-sama.” Agravain bowed deeply from the waist down, nearly making a near ninety degrees with his body before he stood up. He looked towards the smiling Merlin, noting that the man’s ever present smile was a tad dimmer than it usually was now. He wondered if Arthuria noted, but knew she hardly cared for such small things.

Thrice damned Bastard. He already knows.

“It is… About the condition of your… Friend, Miss Guinevere.” He saw the unmistakable stiffening twitch of the girl’s jaw. “The doctors had tried to call you before, however they could not reach your pho—”

“It was annoying so I threw it away.” Agravain tried to not let his eyes widen from her quick response.

“That explains why…” He sent a sidelong glance to Merlin, who now moved to be closer to Arthuria. “Well… As the Doctors could not reach you, they contacted me… I’m sorry Ojou-sama, but Miss Guinevere is dead.” He held in a silent breath as he looked towards Arthuria, whom was ever silent unless speaking.

For others who did not know the woman, they would have said the woman was silent with shock. The death of a friend, a very close friend at that, after losing her parents would no doubt hurt anyone. But Agravain knew the real reason for the girl’s lack of response, and simply waited for his next instruction. There was the twitch of her eyes before he spoke once more.

“I must also add that Lancelot submitted his withdrawl from service, asking for a minimum of two years sabbatical.” Another lack of response from Arthuria before he bowed once more. “I shall take my leave. If you need me once more… Merlin has my number.” Then the man climbed out the window once more, leaving the smiling Merlin left with the silent Arthuria.

“Merlin, fetch the car. I must visit a hospital.” For the third time in his life, Merlin said nothing, no joke, no quip, nothing that was anything the normal Merlin would have done, instead he smiled sadly and nodded before moving to leave Arthuria alone in her house that felt much too large to be just for her.

**-2-**

“Ah! Ah! Ah!”

“Yes! More! Give it to me! Harder! Harder!”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Aaaaaaah!” The woman's eyes and mouth matching in perfect symetrical round unison at the feeling of his seed shooting into the depths of her, only for her to cry out one more time in a wanton voice as a hard thrust by him pushed the seed deeper into her euphoric pleasure.

A low grunt and a shake that came from the base of his spine. Below him the woman who was writhing in ecstasy and pleasure let out one more sultry moan as she felt the warmth of his seed pool within her. Her look of absolute euphoria didn’t even phase him as he pulled himself out from her locked legs and fight embrace. She meanwhile bathed in the afterglow of the session, letting his seed leak out of her naturally as she continued to rub her body sensually.

“Miss Sessyoin— Ah!” The young aide grew several shades of red after entering Kiara Sessyoin’s... “office”. The sparsely decorated white room was reminiscent of some post modern architectural design, sans the large ottoman currently in use by the resident psychiatrist and her guest.

Basking in the afterglow of sex, Kiara only smiled sensually as the aide covered her face with her clipboard. Her guest on the other hand mechanically zipped up his pants and went about finding his clothes strewn around the room from their session.

“T-The H-Heads just w-w-wanted to know where Operator Emiya was, that’sallbye!” The aide quickly sprinted out of the room as Kiara began to move leisurely to a stand, pulling up her underwear to cover her sex. She gazed longinly at the girl’s retreating form before standing once more, legs quivering as she bent over to grab her skirt and blouse up from the ground.

“ALAYA is asking for you Emiya,” Kiara whispered as she hugged the man from behind, her breasts pressing against broad of his back. “You shouldn’t keep them waiting.”  
The man she hugged didn’t bother responding, and instead he just shouldered out of her grasp after pulling on his clothes. She smiled as her eyes traced the never ending myraid of scars, burns, and wounds that patterened his bodyh. She eyed several new ones that she herself had given the man, smiling pleasantly as he finished retying his tie.

"Come back in here anytime Emiya," she sang as he walked out without sending her a second glance.  
Straightening the black tie over his pinstriped shirt, the dull clopping of his leather shoes echoed in a silent hallway in an inhuman gait. His solid grey suit jacket folded one arm as a perfect square atop the case of knives that were kept within the confines of the coat. Despite the many other workers in the organization milling around, the areas he passed always stayed silent. He hardly cared, but knew the reason why.

The longest serving operator on hand, both the first and last resort for any operation deemed necessary for his hand to intervene. No job too dirty, no task too far for him to act. And they knew it, and feared it.

He approached the large steel reinforced doors, the red scanner went over his entire body as he stood at attention. When the light turned off, the slow grinding of the gears grated against the ears of everyone within one hundred feet. A piercing noise showed no sign of subtly at the reason for the room’s importance, nor did the dark interior inside as Emiya stepped within. The doors closing behind him once he stood where he always stood. And soon he was engulfed in darkness as the door ground to a close.

“You asked to see me.” Emiya stood at attention as one hundred screens surrounding one central one flashed to life.

 **“We wish to first analyze your assignment in Oaxaca first.”** The multilayered voice of the one hundred heads of ALAYA, a collective of one hundred secretive individuals whom steer the Counter Force organization towards one central collective ideal; the maintaining of the greater narrative of mankind, ergo the status-quo of humanities survival.

Hidden, enigmatic, brutal, concise, and as close as omniscient as anything save God could be; the organization is a shadow organization openly reviled by those in the know, praised by the those in the know, and unknown to the majority of those not knowing. It is the world’s secret police; owing no allegiance to no other organization, nation, creed, or people other than its own ideal. It is neither good, nor evil, just nor unjust, it is simply the Counter Force, the strong arm of ALAYA’s own utilitarian goals.

 **“The region’s previous gang wars had kept the centralization of power from fall into the hands of one cartell. With the heads of the Naranja Cartell eliminated, the previous power struggle may once more caused further organized crime destabilization, destroying the major monopoly of the drug trade flowing through the land based route of the Southern United States.”** The voices of unseen faces drummed through Emiya’s skull, soon to be forgotten. The one hundred computer screens cast a faint blue hue on his face and dark features.

“I live to serve,” he bowed lowly as the pause that was given to him. The low buzz of the screens let the silence sit before ALAYA responded.

“You’re new task has been given.” The large central screen left unused now flared to life, showing the a news article snapshots, the article’s title written above a crime scene photo.

_Camelot CEO and family murdered in terrorist bombing; only daughter left alive._

_Threats made against new Camelot CEO in wake of funeral service._

_Three Camelot employees murdered despite growing rise of Camelot stock._

_Unsuspecting girl caught in crossfire at Camelot CEO's birthday party_.

Emiya analyzed the picture, before the screen flickered off and a manila folder appeared on a table in front of him as the other screens turned off and the room was engulfed in light. He saw the picture of the girl standing in the rain in a black dress, a man with slicked back black hair on her right and a man with snow white hair on her left as she stood stock still as a man grasped her side in total anguish. A name and task was written atop the file.

**_[Artoria Pendragon – Protect at All Costs]_ **


End file.
